


You're Back (Part II)

by Crowgirl



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Dream Sex, Feelings, M/M, Not Beta Read, Porn with Feelings, Wake-Up Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-29 12:23:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17203337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crowgirl/pseuds/Crowgirl
Summary: ‘But -- you bring me here every night.’





	You're Back (Part II)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Catchclaw](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catchclaw/gifts).
  * Inspired by [You're Back](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17065871) by [Catchclaw](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catchclaw/pseuds/Catchclaw). 



It keeps happening is the thing. Night after night. Never more than once each night, but still. But Steve wakes up every time sore, alone, covered in his own come. JARVIS makes no comment on the uptick in laundry but Steve feels bad about it anyway. 

* * *

And then there’s the night he wakes up before he comes. 

* * *

The sound of his own voice wakes him up. That, and the sensation of something that shouldn’t be there under his left hand. There should be sheets: clean as of this morning, warm from his body, not yet stained with anything particularly embarrassing.

But his hand isn’t on cloth. It’s on something warm, something quite solid, quite _muscular,_ in fact, as his fingers wake up and give him more information. Something that definitely isn’t him.

Steve takes a minute to drag in a deep breath, then another, then another. Whatever’s in his bed can wait until the blood is more evenly distributed through his body; if it wanted to take him out, it could have done so while he was asleep and it hadn't, so there’s something it wants. 

When he feels slightly lightheaded from deep breathing and he no longer feels like trying to speak might not just be him pleading desperately to come, he opens his eyes. 

Bucky smiles at him from about six inches away. ‘Hi.’

Steve blinks. ‘Uh. Hi.’ Steve waits but Bucky seems disinclined to say anything else. ‘Are..is..is there something you want?’

The smile fades away and Bucky’s shoulders tighten. ‘I thought you -- wanted me here.’

Steve’s heart slams against his front teeth and he has to wait a minute to make sure it won’t just pop out when he talks. ‘I didn’t know you were here until two seconds ago.’

Bucky blinks at him, hurt fading into something more like confusion. ‘But -- you bring me here every night.’

‘I _bring_ you here?’ Steve shoves himself up against his pillows and reaches over to switch on the bedside light. Bucky flinches back against the sudden flood and raises a hand -- the metal hand, Steve realises, which is covered in lube and he doesn’t own any so where the _fuck_ had Bucky gotten that? -- to shade his eyes. ‘How the hell can I _bring_ you here?’

Bucky rolls his eyes and reaches out, grabbing Steve's hand with his own. The squish of lube between their fingers should probably be disgusting but instead it just reminds Steve that his diminishing erection aches. 

‘What?’ Steve grips as hard as Bucky; if Buck isn’t going to be weirded out by this, then, dammit, neither is he.

‘Come on.’ Bucky shakes his hand slightly. ‘Do it.’

‘Do what?’

‘I don’t know, man! Whatever the hell it is you do that ends me up down here!’

‘I don’t do anything! What could I _possibly_ do that would--’

And Bucky’s metal arm is abruptly pressed against Steve’s, shoulder to fingers, his shoulder twisting at an awkward angle to compensate. Bucky nods. ‘Yeah. That.’

Steve stares at his hand and flexes his fingers open; Bucky’s fingers stay glued to his, flattened along the back of Steve’s hand and moving with it as though they’re playing some bizarre reverse version of pattycake.

‘Let go.’

‘You don’t want me to,’ Bucky says with absolute certainty.

‘Yes, I do. Let go.’

‘No, see, if you _wanted_ me to let go, I could.’ Bucky’s fingers twitch, his thumb shifts position between Steve’s fingers, he even lifts his hand -- but Steve’s goes with it.

‘You can see the problem,’ Bucky says, shaking his hand slightly as if Steve’s were a bit of sauce or cobweb he could just shake away.

‘Uh...yeah. That’s...new.’ Steve shakes his own hand, clenches it into a fist, spreads his fingers, none of which makes a difference. ‘Why the hell didn’t you _say_ something?’

‘Like what?’ Bucky raises his eyebrows. ‘Hey, Steve, do you like two or three fingers better? Oh, and pass the milk, please.’

Steve feels his cheeks flame and tries to focus on making his skin let go of Bucky's arm. ‘It’d be a start.’

‘Anyway I know the answer.’

‘What?’

‘Three.’ Bucky grins when Steve looks up at him: half-salacious, half-something else Steve is reluctant to name. ‘You definitely prefer three. Four’s a bit too much mostly but you ask for it anyway.’

Steve swallows hard. ‘Why didn’t you say something, Buck?’

The grin fades and Bucky shrugs. ‘Didn’t think you wanted me to.’

‘You didn’t think _I_ wanted you to--’

‘Well, _you_ never said anything!’ Bucky tries to make a dramatic gesture but it ends up looking a little silly with Steve’s hand fastened to his. ‘Not one word; y’wouldn't even look at me. What the hell was I supposed to think?’

‘I…’ Steve stares at Bucky for a minute then sighs, rubbing his free hand over his face. ‘I thought I was dreaming. I thought -- I didn’t -- want to make things harder for you.’

‘Yeah, well, you’ve been doin’ that, all right.’

Steve closes his eyes. ‘I -- Jesus, Bucky, I’m sorry. You’ve gotta know I never -- I would _never--’_

‘Yeah. I know. You would never. Not when you were awake anyway.’

Steve opens his mouth to reply -- then shuts it again. There’s something in Bucky’s voice -- something -- ‘You’d...want me to do this when I was awake?’ 

Bucky snorts, then sighs. ‘No point in saying I wouldn’t now, is there?’ 

‘Bucky -- Buck. Look at me.’ There’s no metal in Bucky’s head -- not even a filling, the lucky bastard -- so Steve knows when Bucky shakes his hair back and looks up it’s not because Steve wants him to. ‘Why have you been doing this every night? Why not wake me up? Tell me? Get me to stop?’

‘The first night…’ Bucky hesitates, then visibly firms his jaw, pushes his shoulders back. ‘You were fast asleep, all curled on your side like you did when you were a kid. And you had one hand out --’ He sticks his other arm out stick straight, the fingers fanned open. ‘-- and you said my name. I thought -- maybe you were havin’ a bad dream again, y’know? So -- so I took your hand -- I mean, I thought I did, but I guess you--’ Bucky jogs their locked-together arms again. There’s a flush starting along his cheekbones and Steve wants so badly to lean forward and kiss it that he’s biting the inside of his cheek painfully hard to stop himself. 

‘And -- uh -- well, you weren’t havin’ a bad dream, that’s for damn sure.’ Bucky grins at him but the expression fades too fast and he looks down at the sheets. ‘Didn’t know you were into the kinky stuff, though. Guess there’s somethin’ about you I don’t know after all.’ 

Steve nods, then says quietly, ‘I don’t own lube, Bucky.’

‘Yeah, I know you don’t; I had to get--’ Bucky snaps his mouth shut and glares at Steve. 

Steve leans forward, slipping his free hand onto Bucky’s shoulder, fingertips just barely brushing the side of his throat. ‘Have I been being stupid, Buck?’ 

Bucky simply glares at him again and looks away.

‘Oh, _now_ you’re shy about telling me I’m being an idiot?’ 

‘Okay, you’re a fucking idiot, Rogers.’ Bucky’s voice is a scrape, each word bitten off, spat out. ‘Been yours for the askin’ but I guess--’

What Bucky guesses at this point is of such little interest to Steve he can’t be bothered to stop and explain it; instead, he wraps his fingers around Bucky’s metal ones and yanks, pulling Bucky off-balance and nearly into Steve’s lap. Steve doesn’t wait for him to get his balance again, just lurches forward and gets their mouths together the best way he can. 

Bucky goes still under him for a minute and Steve has just long enough to wonder if he has made a terrible, terrible mistake before Bucky groans and opens his mouth and damn near eats Steve whole. 

Before he knows much about what’s happening, Steve’s on his back, scrabbling at the waist of Bucky’s pajama bottoms, Bucky’s simply torn off the t-shirt Steve had on and is laying a line of bitten kisses down the side of Steve’s throat, over his collarbone, down his left pec. 

‘Holy -- holy shit, Buck -- please don’t -- please --’

‘Which one, babe?’ Bucky asks, leaning up with a wicked grin. ‘Please or don’t?’

‘Please -- _please--’_ Steve shoves the cloth down over Bucky’s hips, digging his thumbs into the hollows of Bucky's hips. Bucky hisses and arches forward and Steve cries out: everything is too much, not enough, he doesn’t know what he wants or how to ask for it but before he can try to come up with something, Bucky’s backed down the bed, on his knees between Steve’s thighs. ‘Oh, Jesus --’

‘Blasphemy, Rogers,’ Bucky says with a wink before his mouth covers the head of Steve’s cock and the metal fingers slip and slither and slide between his legs until they slide home and this is just what Steve’s been dreaming about except he hasn’t been, has he? It’s all been real, he just wouldn’t let himself wake up and see it.

**Author's Note:**

> I know it's fade-to-black sex; I know. I just really wanted to finish something, y'know?


End file.
